


Whiskey

by stellahbella



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahbella/pseuds/stellahbella
Summary: Based on a post by vampireapologist on Tumblr, "I don't drink whiskey but I make sure to always have a bottle on hand so when my rival gets injured in a knife fight and only has me to turn to for help at 2 AM I can pour it on them as disinfectant before I patch the up and we inevitably fall in love."





	Whiskey

Nines was used to tolerating Detective Reed’s forever changing mood towards and opinions of himself. In the bullpen, there was endless verbal abuse. Several times, the detective tried to assert his physical dominance by “shoulder checking,” Hank taught him the phrase, Nines on a crime scene. These instances always resulted in the detective’s arm being twisted to submission, and Nines reminding him in less than subtle ways that he is superior. Other times, on occasion, the detective would brush past him, but something felt different. The action lacked aggression, and he would produce a grunt that Nines was sure was meant to be an apology. Nines would sense eyes on his face, and turn his own in time to see the detective look anywhere but him, a flush on his face.

He was able to write all of these off as bad opinions and investigation, but when a knock came on his apartment door at 2 o’clock in the morning, pulling him from diagnostic running, he began to wonder if he was being honest with himself about his observations.

Opening the door, his LED flashes red at the sight of Detective Reed standing there, holding his thigh, the jeans around his hand dark red. He didn’t need to check it to know it was blood.

“Come on, tin can, move over, I’m bleeding here!” Reed barked, shoving his way into the apartment and leaning against the kitchen counter. He looked around and scoffed. “I see you haven’t taken my advice, just really like that sterile aesthetic, huh? CyberLife program that into you?” Nines pushed air out of his nose, a sign of annoyance he learned from watching Captain Fowler. Reed side eyed him before rolling his own eyes. “Can you help me out here, offer me a seat or some shit? This kind of hurts,” he said, before mumbling something about plastic pieces of shit and slouching against the counter. Nines noticed his breathing becoming heavier, and did a scan over Reed while he opened the cabinet under his sink, his hand going immediately to a home medical kit. He had meant to transfer it to the patrol car after purchasing it. He found himself relieved that he hadn’t.

Adrenaline levels high, but lowering. Blade wound to the left thigh. Scrapes and scratches in various spots. Objective: disinfect and cover wound.

“Take your pants off,” Nines commanded, setting the kit on the counter and opening it. There were only two small disinfectant cloths, sealed away in small packages. Unsatisfactory. Reed’s head shot up, looking exasperated, color coming to his cheeks. Sweat was shining on his forehead.

“What the hell, tin can? Can’t you just fix it without me having to strip? Jesus, you’re a freak.”

“If you can’t follow directions, Detective, I’ll be unable to help you. Your prudish behavior is uncalled for, given your need for medical attention,” Nines replied coolly, his LED yellow as he side eyed the detective. As Nines predicted, Reed cursed and began the process of removing his pants. Nines had seen the detective react to challenges many times, statements mean to rile him up in the bullpen, taunts from criminals that only fueled him in his pursuit, and though this was his first time using a verbal challenge to manipulate the detective into doing what he needed, he knew the odds of success were high.

Once the detective had his pants off, Nines inspected the wound. Not particularly deep, and not by anything vital. Just bleeding profusely from the opening. Turning to the freezer, he retrieved a bottle of whiskey and reached for a chair, settling it in front of Reed’s leg. “Prop your foot up here,” he instructed, uncapping the whiskey and holding the underside of Reed’s leg with a towel.

He sensed the detective’s heart rate increase and looked up long enough to see the other avert his eyes, his cheeks taking on a glow in the dim light.

“This may hurt,” Nines said as he picked up the bottle with his free hand and tilted it, pouring the amber colored liquid over the wound. The alcohol content of the whiskey would act as a sufficient disinfectant, given the other inferior option. The way it mixed with Reed’s blood as it fell into the towel was mesmerizing, he had to admit. The whiskey possessed a deep amber hue and, when mixed with Reed’s bright red blood, created a rich russet color. He only received a moment to marvel at the sight, as the detective began hissing, a hand clenching his shoulder. “God dammit toaster, what the hell do you even have whiskey for? Plastic can’t drink, right? Fucks with your body or some shit like that? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, fuck fuck fuck!” Reed tightened his grip as Nines continued to pour, stopping once the blood did. Nines looked up at Reed and said, “In the event my greatest enemy shows up at my door in need of medical attention, and I find myself lacking in disinfectant.”

Releasing the detective’s thigh, Nines set the bottle on the counter and retrieved a paper towel, turning on the sink. As he waited for the water to warm, he watched as Reed grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a large swig from it. “We almost done here, tincan?”

“I believe it was you who woke me up at this late hour, Detective.”

Reed snorted. “Right, like plastic fucks can sleep.”

Nines narrowed his eyes, his LED yellow before pushing more air out of his nose and putting the paper towel under the water. Shutting the tap off, he returned to the detective’s leg and began wiping away the excess blood and whiskey from around the wound. It wasn’t as pretty on the paper towel as it had been on his leg.

“Tell me, Detective, what brought you a wound such as the like as this?” He inquired as he opened the first aid kit and retrieved a large bandage, holding it next to the wound for size comparison.

“You’re acting almost human doing that, you know. Cut the crap, we both know it’s big enough,” Reed huffed, looking anywhere but at Nines.

“The wound, Detective.” He peeled open the package, but stopped, looking at Reed, yellow LED spinning. “You’re avoiding the question. Did you cut yourself?”

Reed sputtered at that, a bewildered look on his face. “What? No! Jesus tin can, I’m not that dumb. I was out at a bar having a drink--”

“Shocking.”

“Do you want the damn story? Plastic prick. Anyway, I was out, just minding my own damn business when fucking Perkins comes up to me. Didn’t even know that bastard was in town but it’s my fucking luck that he ran into me. Anyway, he starts saying all this shit about Androids and then he brings you up and is all, “That’s one piece of machine that the FBI could really use. Think I can get him on our team? Bet he already makes more than you, Reed, but how fucking steamed would you be if he made four times as much?” Reed took another swig of whiskey. “So I told him to fuck off, that you wouldn’t want to come work with a cock sucker like him anyway, he starts to push me, I push back, next thing I know the fucker rams this sharp ass key into my leg with enough force to tear jean and break skin. Bartender was already threatening to call the cops so I booked it out of there. Knew your place was close and I wouldn’t be waking you up, so here I am.”

Nines had finished applying the bandage and stood up straight, hands folded behind his back, his LED spinning quickly as he processed what he had been told. It was true, he didn’t want to work for the FBI. He liked being on the DPD. He liked his precinct. On occasion, he felt he could, eventually, enjoy being Reed’s partner. Though a rare feeling, he felt it nonetheless. This was one of those times. Reed defended him. Gavin Reed, the man who openly hated androids, defended Nines to another elitist. Nines felt conflicted. Standing before him was the man who made it his personal mission to terrorize him within the precinct walls, on jobs, anywhere that he could attempt to humiliate Nines. Standing before him was also the man who defended his name against someone of power. Standing before him, in his kitchen, in his apartment. His LED slowed, blinked, and turned blue.

“An interesting tale, Detective, but I see one flaw within it.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that, tin can?”

“I don’t recall ever giving you my address.”


End file.
